24
MORGAN
“She called you an experiment?” Anika all but shrieks midbite into her chicken tender.
We’re all at the diner—might as well call it an unofficial Pride Club meeting at this point—and Drew and Anika have been nice enough not to pry about why I showed up sniffling and tearstained, even though I’m sure they can guess after last night.
It’s taken me an hour to work up the courage to fill everyone else in.
“Seriously?” Drew asks. “That seems ridiculous even for her.”
“She didn’t use the word, but that was the gist. She said she wanted to ‘try something’ and then went to kiss me.” I grab a soggy french fry. “After seeing her and Tyler last night, even if she says nothing happened . . .”
“Yeah, she can go ‘try something’ with someone else,” Anika says.
“Dude, what if it just came out wrong?” Aaron asks, and I snap my head toward him.
“You’re standing up for her?”
“What, because she’s your neighbor, you’re going to take her side now?” Drew snorts.
“You’re her neighbor?” I practically shriek. Sure, I’ve never been to Aaron’s house, but still, this feels like crucial information.
“Yep,” he says, popping the p like it’s no big deal. “And look, if I’m sticking up for her, it’s only a little. I’m just saying, I did a lot of messed-up things when I was working through my identity stuff too. I was clumsy as hell about it. I’m not saying she’s not a megabitch or that you have to be the one to put up with it, but it sounds like she’s legitimately floundering. And her mom is just . . .”
“What?” I ask. Ruby’s mother has always been a bit of a question mark to me.
Aaron looks uncomfortable. “I don’t want to seem like I’m talking shit, but you hear a lot when you’re living as close together as we are. Let’s just say our upbringings couldn’t be more different. We were actually really close once, but when I came out as trans, her mom stopped letting me over. She didn’t want ‘that stuff’ around her kid.”
“Wow,” Brennan says.
“They have a weird relationship. Her mom’s super controlling and closed-minded. I don’t know what Ruby’s doing, but if she is part of our team, it can’t be easy in that house. I’m sure that’s constantly in her head.”
“Wow,” Drew says.
Aaron slides the chicken tenders closer to me. “Not everybody’s journey from A to B can be as clear-cut as yours was, Morgan.”
“Clear-cut?” I snap. “I had to switch schools in the middle of my senior year! None of my old friends will talk to me! I can’t even run track right now! I took a chance on owning who I am, and I could lose everything for it. How can you possibly say it was easy!”
“I didn’t say it was easy,” Aaron says. “I said it was clear-cut. And it was, because you know who you are and what you want. You have parents who are behind you, a brother who lets you stay with him, and”—he gestures around the table—“new friends who will always have your back. I got really lucky too; my parents are the most supportive and open-minded people in the universe! When I told them I was changing my name to Aaron with an A, my mom literally ordered a bunch of blankets and ornaments and everything she could find with the new spelling. She even wanted to have one of those stupid gender reveal parties to announce it to the extended family—you know, the ones where all the blue balloons shoot out? Luckily, I squashed it.”
“God, I love your mom,” Brennan says.
“Me too,” he says. “But we need to remember that not everybody has that, especially not from the jump. I mean, our end-of-the-year Pride Club project is literally a food and clothing drive because so many kids get kicked out of their houses for this shit.”
I cross my arms. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m the one being judged here?”
“You’re not,” Aaron says. “All I’m saying is, if you care about her, and she’s worth it to you, cut her some slack. This is the first I’ve ever heard of her having an interest in anybody but guys, and I’m pretty plugged into the rumor mill at the park.”
“Yeah, and she’s certainly had plenty of interest in guys,” Anika snarks. “No rumors needed on that front.”
Aaron raises an eyebrow. “What we’re not going to do is slut-shame her.”
“What are you, like, her protector now?” Anika snorts. “She’s messing with Morgan’s head!”
I frown, my heart sinking just a little bit more. Because even though I’m really pissed at Ruby, hearing Anika talk crap about her isn’t helping.
“How long have you all known her?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Since kindergarten,” Brennan says.
Drew tilts his head. “Same, I think.”
“Uh, basically since birth,” Aaron says. “Our parents moved into the park at the same time.”
“Since third grade,” Anika says.
“And she’s really never shown any interest in a girl before?”
Aaron shrugs. “Not that I know of. But then again, she doesn’t really date guys either.”
“Yeah, she just hooks up with them.” Anika grimaces. “A lot.”
“Will you cut it out?” Aaron asks. “Please?”
“Sorry,” she says, looking properly admonished. “You’re right. I’m being an ass. I’m just pissed for Morgan.”
“This was supposed to be my fresh start.” I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. “And instead it’s just the exact same thing all over again. Falling for yet another girl who doesn’t know what she wants. Good job, Morgan.”
“Wait, falling for her? Like falling for her falling for her?” Brennan asks, his eyebrows scrunching together.
I peek up over my hands. “Why is this my life?”
“Because you’re super cute,” Drew says with a little smirk when I look up at him. “Oh, woe is Morgan. All the girls want to kiss you, even the ones we thought were straight. You’ll probably find Anika on your porch next, banging on your door.”
Anika punches him on the arm, and then everybody starts laughing. Even I do, for a sec, before the dread of What’s it going to be like seeing her at school Monday? comes back. At least the project is over, so I can move my seat back next to Allie and Lydia. But now that her lips have been on my lips . . .
“Earth to Morgan,” Anika says, flinging a fry at me.
“Sorry.” I fake a smile. “I think I’m going to go for a run, actually.” I toss some money on the table and slide out of the booth, grateful that my daily attire consists of running gear and little else.
“But there’s still food!” Drew says.
“I need to work this out of my system, you know? I’ll feel better after.”
“Are you sure?” Aaron asks. “I didn’t piss you off with my truth bombs, did I? I know sometimes they don’t land.”
“No, we’re good. You made a solid point. I just don’t know how to deal with it yet.”
He nudges me with his elbow and gives me a reassuring smile. “Hopefully, you’ll figure that out on your run.”
“Yeah.” I hope so too.
My feet hit the pavement, their steady rhythm against the asphalt as familiar as my own heartbeat. I start off slow, warming up my hip until the endorphins squeeze out the ache, and then I push myself harder and faster through the town, trying to forget the tingle of her lips on mine, and how I let myself feel them, just for a second, before I pushed her away.
I run until the businesses give way to houses, which give way to trees, and then I dart into the woods, cutting through what looks to be a path. I can’t tell if it was made by a deer or a runner or maybe, hopefully, both.
I perform best on the track—a lot of us do—but there’s just something about racing through the trees, branches flying past, squirrels jumping, and snakes slithering out of my way. Nothing else matters except my feet and my body and the dirt that holds me up, as I strike and push off, my pace quickening until finally the world fades away, a blur of nothing but adrenaline, endorphins, and peace. I linger there, all thoughts chased out, just a body in motion staying in motion, swimming in the chemicals in my brain.
But then my left foot snags a root, which sends me sprawling onto the ground. My headphones fly off as I shift my fall to save my ankle, smashing my cheek onto a rock as I come to a halt in a big pile of leaves.
“Ouch.” I grunt, slowly sitting up to assess the damage. My head already hurts, and I’m pretty sure my cheek is bleeding, but I’m more worried about my ankle. I slide my foot up and touch it gingerly. It’s going to bruise, definitely, but nothing seems broken. A mild sprain at worst. I flop to the ground, smiling. I’ve run with much worse. This is why the universe invented KT Tape and ice and ibuprofen. Finally, something I actually know how to handle.
It’s nearly dark by the time I limp all the way home, my ankle screaming as the blood dries on my cheek. I find a note from Dylan saying that he went to a concert at a bar called the Screeching Weasel in the next town over, and that he left me money for pizza in the usual spot.
The usual spot is under the bread on top of the stove, because “bread hides dough,” apparently. But why he thinks he needs to leave cryptic notes and hide cash is beyond me. If a burglar broke in, they’d probably be a lot more likely to steal his giant TV and gaming systems than to try to puzzle out the clues and hunt for twenty bucks.
I reach into the freezer and stop, my hands pausing at the bag of frozen peas.
Nope. Not going there.
I shove them out of the way and grab my favorite ice pack instead, before heading to the bathroom. I need a quick shower, some antiseptic for my cheek, and sleep.
Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.